


Collars Aren't the Only Thing You Can Use

by ChibiTabatha



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Collars, Emotions, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Mild Smut, My First Work in This Fandom, This seriously wasn't supposed to be so fluffy, i don't know what happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-16
Updated: 2017-02-16
Packaged: 2018-09-24 19:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9783500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChibiTabatha/pseuds/ChibiTabatha
Summary: In which Glanni may or may not have messed up, and Íþróttaálfurinn may or may not react well to that mess up.First fic for this fandom, and it originally was not supposed to turn out this way. I promise.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, first time writing for this fandom and this happened. So I hope you enjoy!

A cool breeze wrapped around his legs as he dabbed at his lipstick with a finger. It wasn't perfect but it was presentable. The soft wind blew around his long legs once again and he scowled into the mirror, "Close the window you damnable elf." The soft click of the window shutting did nothing to alleviate the worry coiling around his innards like a snake curling around its catch. Turning this way and that he decided that yes, he was the most handsome man in all of Mayhem Town. The soft click of his heels across wood echoed in his ears and he swallowed thickly, if he could play this off he would be golden, he just couldn't show any fear.  
  
The elf in question was doing one handed push-ups, the leather chest piece already removed. "Glæpur," the man didn't even look up at him from his work-out.  
  
"Íþróttaálfurinn," Glanni crossed his arms and tapped his boot against the wood impatiently. Gently he pinched and rubbed the bridge of his nose, "I know we have a deal, but I'm not feeling it. I could be coming down with something and heaven forbid I pass it on to you."  
  
That grabbed the shorter man's attention, in a moment he pushed himself clear off the floor and closed the distance between them in two strides. A firm hand gripped his jaw, "If that was the case why is your face all done up? If you were truly to be spending the evening indoors why would you be wearing those boots?"   
  
Glanni stared down at him through his dark lashes, "Is it a crime for one to doll themselves up when they aren't feeling the best?" He tried to pull back from the shorter man but the grip on his jaw tightened.  
  
Green eyes glared up at him, demanding his complete obedience. Glanni hunched his shoulders but stayed put even after the ruthless grip on his jaw was released. The elf walked around him, eyes skimming up and down his lean frame. A firm grip on his zipper made him flinch; he was screwed six ways to Sunday. The slow sound of the zipper sliding open caused dread to build in the pit of his stomach. The cool air caressed the skin of his chest and he could feel the muscles in his shoulders tensing. "You're still wearing it, good," the deep rumble of Íþró's voice paired with the sharp tug of the collar Glanni had kept under his cat suit made him shiver.   
  
He could hear the sound of his blood freezing in his veins as Íþró's eyes narrowed. A thumb pressed into the tender spot just underneath the leather, drawing a small hiss from his lips. "This is not mine. Care to explain where it came from?" the ice laced into the words cut through Glanni like a knife.  
  
Glanni cleared his throat, "I have to eke out a living somehow. If I have to I will use my body to get to the end goal." The digit pushed harder into the soft spot and he buckled slightly under the pressure.  
  
"Did you take it off?" the elf's eyes stared holes into his own grey irises.  
  
"Take what off?" the sharp sting of skin on skin rippled across his face; he barely registered the sound of the slap, too busy feeling the fire in his cheek. A low growl threatened to rumble out of his chest but he bit it back, "Yes. I took the collar off."  
  
The long silence was wreaking havoc with his already frayed emotions. The low rumble from the elf's chest sliced through the silence and a rough tug on the collar had Glanni landing roughly on his knees. "I believe we made a deal Glæpur," the deep timbre of Íþró's voice did nothing to soothe the panic rising in his chest.  
  
"Yes, well, it got in the way of my job," there was no waver to his voice and he was proud that he could achieve the level of control over his voice in this situation.  
  
The snarl cut off most thoughts Glanni was even trying to nurse to make any sort of excuse to get out of the punishment that was surely coming his way. Opening his mouth to try to placate the hero, he was cut off by lips searing into his. The kiss was all teeth and tongue and the firm tug of the leather bit into his skin making him whimper. The onslaught against his mouth ceased, and he panted looking up at Íþróttaálfurinn. "Should mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to. Make sure you never forget," the statement was punctuated with a sharp bite on his collarbone.  
  
"As if you would. You wouldn't want the children to find out of your baser needs. That you succumb to them in my presence," Glanni scoffed. The elf's hot mouth latched onto his collarbone and he relentlessly bit and sucked on the skin there, dark marks blooming under sharp teeth. It stole his breath away, the pain quickly became pleasurable, and he had to bite his lower lip to silence himself.  
  
“You forget that you wear a conveniently high collar Glæpur,” the elf murmured against his flesh. The stocky man pulled Glanni up with him, bodily tugging him towards the bed. The back of his knees folded against the mattress, “Although I think this necklace suits you well enough.”  
  
He looked down at the few marks he could see, the dark colour standing out against the pallor of his skin. The sound of fabric rustling and a belt buckle jingling brought his gaze back up. The elf had ditched the gross yellow shirt, burnt orange hat, and had his belt loosened. His mouth felt dry suddenly, a small faded brown spot just on the elf’s shoulder caught his eye. The soft blemish on sun bronzed skin was from a week ago, he had put it there fully expecting the magical being would easily heal it. Íþró knelt in front of him and worked at the laces of his brown boots, Glanni just wiggled his feet out of the heels. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from the rippling of muscles under sun-kissed skin, the methodical way the sturdy fingers worked the laces.   
  
Without thinking his slim fingers brushed the small mark, the man tensed. “Why is this still here?” the softness of his voice sounded foreign to him.  
  
A warm hand wrapped around his, the elf staying silent. With Íþróttaálfurinn’s boots removed, the hero moved closer to the criminal, peeling away the leather of the cat suit slowly. Something in the air felt different, the hero moved with more care and patience than usual. Glanni wasn’t sure he was comfortable with this feeling pressing down on him, but the elf’s silence made him panic. He opened his mouth to speak again but was cut off by warm lips sealing over his. The kiss was far more tender than he was expecting, typically this was the point where the kisses were all teeth and tongue. A calloused hand gently cupped the stinging skin of his cheek, tilting his head for better access to his mouth. Although the kiss became more needy, the elf’s tongue slowly mapping his mouth, it never stopped being tender. Something in his chest clenched painfully. When the kiss finally stopped, Glanni pushed against the muscular chest in his space. He felt trapped, and this was not what he signed up for.  
  
Warm hands gently wrapped around his struggling hands, pressing one fully to his chest. The strong heartbeat was irregular, pumping far too fast. “Glæpur,” Íþró mumbled softly. Another kiss. “Glanni,” the soft tender way it was spoken made Glanni’s chest tighten painfully.  
  
“No! Stop this at once,” the criminal tried to worm his way out of the stronger man’s grasp. “You don’t treat me like this. I’m just here for you to have a good time and for you to stay mostly out of my hair,” the panic was fully slipping into his voice, along with the emotion that had begun to squeeze his chest.  
  
“You’re right,” the hero pulled on his wrists tighter, trying to stop the lankier man from squirming quite as much. “Perhaps there is room for improvement in this deal we made for ourselves.”  
  
Glanni struggled harder, his heart would not be able to handle this, “Leave me alone!”  
  
Íþróttaálfurinn’s grip slackened slightly and the taller man used that to his advantage by tearing his wrists away and scooting to the far end of the bed. He curled in on himself, chest and back exposed, pressing his face into his leather clad knees, long arms wrapped around his legs. “Glanni?” the soft unspoken care in that voice was crushing Glanni.  
  
“You’re just trying to trick me. You sneaky elf. I won’t fall for your tricks so easily. You’ll have to do better than that,” he pulled his face up enough to sneer at the hero.  
  
The confusion on the tanned face melted into soft understanding. The bed dipped under the more muscular man, “No tricks Glanni. I’ve been thinking of you an awful lot lately.” The weight continued to shift until the elf was almost flush with the human. He reached out and gently touched the collar, “Thinking that there are other ways I wish you to be bound to me. I realize that this was a half-hearted and selfish attempt to fill the smallest part of that desire.”  
  
Glanni could only stare at the hero. What nonsense was the fool babbling about now? The leather of the collar was loosened and removed, the elf sitting back on his feet. The collar sat in his hands and he looked from the collar to Glanni, his gaze soft, “No longer will I hold you to our deal. I would however still enjoy your company from time to time.”  
  
“What?” his heart lurched painfully in his chest.  
  
“I’ll give you time to think about it. I realize this is a lot to take in. I’m sorry,” the weight shifted back and the elf was off the bed.  
  
“Wait!” Glanni uncurled and reached for the elf. The green gaze that met his eyes was soft and slightly sad, he shook his head turning his back slightly. “I said wait you stupid fool,” Glanni threw himself off the bed. He grabbed the elf’s shoulder, turning him as best he could, “Do you mean what you said? That there are other ways you want me to be bound to you?” The small tender smile and slightly shy nod answered his question. Glanni took a deep breath and leaned forward pressing his lips to the hero’s. It was chaste and it made his pulse thunder loudly in his ears, “Prove to me that you mean these things.”  
  
A playful smirk graced the shorter man’s face, “You can’t back out half way through.”  
  
“Try me elf,” he purred into the pointed ear. This drew a low growl from the man, and Glanni filed the information about sensitive ears away deep into his mind for later.  
  
Íþró slipped a hand against the bare skin of the taller man's chest, feeling the irregular beat of his heart. Gently the calloused fingers drifted to the ring of marks dotting his collar, the skin was still sensitive and Glanni hissed slightly. It was painful and good, something he was used to. The tender kiss that followed was not something he was used to and the two conflicting feelings were very confusing.  
  
The calloused hand slipped up and around the taller man’s neck, fingers gently touching the hair at the nape. Chills shot down his spine, the hero was being far too tender and it stirred emotions in the criminal’s heart that he did not want to acknowledge. His slim fingers slipped up to the strong jaw, sliding past it into the soft brown waves of the elf’s hair. The soft sound that escaped Ithro’s throat made Glanni’s blood pump harder. His fingers curled into his scalp, finger’s gently scraping the flesh. Again a noise escaped the shorter man’s throat. The more muscular man slowly shuffled them towards the bed, pulling the lankier man down onto the bed on top of him.  
  
The warm mouth returned to his collar, between soft open kisses placed against the tender skin Íþróttaálfurinn mumbled, “So beautiful. Radiant. Smart. Charming.” Glanni moaned, the hero never praised him, never talked down to him either, he wasn’t usually so vocal. The praise matched with the soft kisses to tender skin set his blood on fire.  
  
“You’re one to talk,” Glanni managed to shift away from the man underneath him. Placing his hand on the toned chest he leant back, rolling his hips downwards. The elf gasped, thick fingers grabbing leather clad thighs. “You’re like a statue they keep in museums and galleries. All toned,” a finger traced down between his pecs, down his abs, “bronzed,” his finger traced a hip, “perfect.” He leaned down capturing the other man’s lips. A muscular hand held him in place, slick tongue sliding against his own.   
  
The world spun, his back now flush with the mattress. The elf ground his hips sharply down and they both moaned. “If I’m a statue, then you’re like a traditional painting,” the elf showered kisses down his throat and along his shoulder. “All soft lines,” a hand slid down his side towards the bunched up fabric of his cat suit, “stark contrasts,” the hand slipped past the fabric, “eye-catching.” Glanni canted his hips upwards into the warm hand, a gasp on his lips.  The warmth held his hip steady, thumb tracing the bone.  
  
A low growl escaped Glanni’s throat, “You’re testing my patience hero.” He wound his long fingers in the wavy brown locks again, gently pulling. A deep throaty moan escaped the elf, head following the pull on his hair. Warm breath ghosted over his throat and the criminal turned towards the slightly pointed ear, “Two can play this game.” The hero shivered slightly, a small gasp escaping his lips. Glanni’s tongue gently traced the tip of the ear beside him, the man squirmed in his grasp, a small needy whine escaping his lips. A low chuckle at the hero’s expense was spared before the criminal gently tugged on the ear with his teeth.   
  
The fingers on his hips slowly curled, biting into the tender flesh. The panting turned into a low growl that went straight to Glanni’s groin. Despite the grip in the elf’s hair he turned and claimed the lankier man’s lips. With the taller man’s mouth distracted the hand on his hip slipped towards his straining member. Calloused fingers traced the straining length and Glanni bucked up into the touch. “Eager are we?” the words puffed across his lips before sealing over them again. The villain scowled, hand moving from its spot in the man’s hair down his chest to the hem of the disgusting mustard yellow pants. Slim fingers deftly worked the button and zipper open, working their way to release the other man’s staining erection. Once his own fingers wrapped around the hero’s shaft, the other had to pull away with a gasp.  
  
“I’m not the only one who’s eager elf,” he purred. Their mouths met in several more sloppy kisses while one hand stroked a slow lazy pace and the other left a bruising grip on the other’s hip. Íþróttaálfurinn pulled away from Glanni and pulled at the cat suit, removing it completely before shucking off his own pants. Glanni took the time to admire the sight of the flushed and flustered elf, the blush reaching well to his chest. Íþró didn’t give him much time before he was back over top of him, settling between the longer man’s legs. Trailing kisses up his thighs, breath ghosting over the throbbing member, making the taller man squirm.   
  
The pop of a cap opening stalled Glanni’s movement for a moment, before Íþró took the head of his member into his mouth. Glanni tried hard not to buck into the wet warmth around him, and one arm pushed his leg up. The taller man took the hint and shifted so the elf could have better access. With a flick of the tongue across the weeping slit of his cock the elf gently pushed one finger past the tight ring of muscle. Glanni let out a soft moan, his body trying to thrust down onto the finger invading him and bucking into the mouth swallowing him down. The hero took no time at all adding a second finger, slowly spreading him while his tongue swirled around the head of his aching member. The fingers brushed that sensitive spot in him and he keened. With a wet pop the hero removed his mouth from Glanni, “Right there?” he punctuated the sentence by swiping his fingers across the spot again.  
  
Glanni moaned. “Yes! Now stop messing around and get up here,” the villain motioned for the elf to join him.  
  
The elf settled between the long legs, opening the lube again before slicking himself up. Íþró slowly sank into Glanni’s heat, his own moan escaping his throat. Once he was fully seated inside the criminal he stroked his sides, his legs, his face. “You’re so beautiful like this, flushed and needy. I want to be the only one who gets to see this,” the hero leaned down and pressed kisses along the collar bone and throat. Gently he pulled out and thrust back into the criminal under him, both letting out breathy moans.  
  
“You are,” Glanni mumbled softly trying to rock his hips up, trying to get his sweet spot hit again.   
  
The elf obliged and drove back into the man under him, setting a slightly faster pace. Changing the angle slightly caused the taller man to shout out. “There?” was answered with a nod and a moan. The athletic man set a bruising pace, brushing the prostrate and making the lankier man squirm and writhe under him.   
  
“Cl-close,” the taller man managed to stutter out.  
  
Fingers wrapped around the base of his dick, “Not yet,” the low timbre of the hero’s voice sent shivers down the taller man’s spine. Glanni keened as his orgasm was denied. The athletic man continued pressing into him, brushing that sensitive spot. “ _Gods_ …” the elf murmured against his skin, “You’re so _good_.” The taller man hooked his ankles together, causing the elf to drive deeper. Wrapping his arms under the smaller man’s shoulders he gently ran his painted nails over the skin.  
  
Íþróttaálfurinn’s thrusts became jerky and erratic. Glanni growled lowly, “ _Come_ for me big guy.” Those words must have given him the push he needed; the thrusts became harder and shorter. The heat that filled Glanni drove him over the edge, his own ejaculate covering both their abdomens.   
  
As Íþró slid out of Glanni he covered the taller man’s face in kisses, “Shall we clean up?”  
  
The taller man groaned, “Too tired.”  
  
The hero chuckled softly, padding over to the bathroom. Returning to the criminal’s side he wiped the man down despite the protests and the groaning. “Thank you Glanni,” pressed a kiss to his forehead.  
  
“Shut up and get into bed you sentimental fool,” slim fingers wrapped around sun kissed skin.  
  
“You want me to stay?” the incredulous tone made the thin man’s lips turn up.  
  
“Bed. Now,” he tugged sharply.  
  
The weight on the bed shifted and the warmth of the athletic man settled beside him, Glanni curled into him. “Try not to wake me before noon with your inane exercises,” he sighed a soft smile on his lips.  
  
“You’re letting me stay? Why?” the elf wrapped his arms around the taller man, pulling him close, running a hand through the shorter hair.  
  
“I believe I asked you to prove to me that you meant what you said. So you’ll have to prove what you said. That simple Íþróttaálfurinn,” Glanni let out a soft yawn. “Now we go to sleep or I kick you out for disturbing my beauty rest.”  
  
“You’re already beautiful to me Glanni. I wouldn’t want you any other way,” the hero pressed his lips to the crown of his head before settling in. Sleep claimed them both shortly after, and if the annoying elf woke Glanni before noon, neither will tell.  


**Author's Note:**

> Well I'm glad you stuck through this with me. Let me know what you thought. You guys are awesome!


End file.
